Cracked, Not Shattered
by LonelyPine
Summary: They made it out of the Underground, and of course something drags them back. Old ghosts will come back to haunt our friends from this underground in this character study. Don't forget to R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Sans lurched into consciousness, clutching his chest, once more awakened by the nightmares. Despite not really needing to breathe, his chest was heaving. It had been about a month since Frisk finally completed the Pacifist run, and Sans couldn't have been happier about that, but that didn't stop the worry gnawing at his insides. Getting here had been… messy.

Way back in the beginning, in a time Sans could barely remember, Frisk had first dropped from that accursed hole to the outside. Initially, they tried to spare everyone, make everyone their friend and save every monster in the underground, but they could never figure out how to save Asriel. They must have reset hundreds of times just trying to save that darn goat-kid until they eventually snapped. They stopped believing they could save everyone. They still went through the motions for a few runs, doing the same thing they had done so many times before, but it didn't take too long for them to start killing monsters. A froggit or two in one run, a tsundereplane in another. But of course it didn't stop there, oh no. It escalated beyond belief.

In the beginning it seemed Frisk believed "I can save everyone." Then it was "I can't save everyone." Then, it became "Why save anyone?" And then Frisk completed a genocide run. Sans chuckled morbidly as he remembered that first time. It took Frisk 251 attempts to kill him. The next run, it took 112 attempts. Then 40. So it goes.

After a whole bunch of genocide runs, Frisk got bored. Killing Sans wasn't even a challenge at that point, so they started trying for the pacifist run again. Sans was the only monster who could remember the previous runs. He had hoped Frisk had buried the hatchet - or knife, in this case - but that didn't stop a shiver going down his spine every time he laid eyes on the kid. They knew he remembered the previous runs, but never really talked about it, never begged for forgiveness nor threatened destruction. With each failed run, Sans got more and more worried that Frisk would pick up that knife again and get back to doing what they did best, killing, but it never came to that. Finally, after countless runs, Frisk figured out how to save _everyone,_ even Asriel.

However, Sans just couldn't stop wondering if it could all be taken away, if Frisk would get bored of this peaceful world and reset it. His mind racing too fast for sleep, Sans rolled out of bed, slipped on his slippers and checked the clock. It was a little past three in the morning. He glanced out his window and saw snow. ' _Perfect weather for a walk,'_ he mused as he pulled on his signature blue hoodie. Careful not to wake Papyrus, he eased his door open, crept down the stairs and out of the house. With a sigh, Sans started forward and his pale form nearly disappeared into the snow.

He walked through the white, knowing exactly where he was going. Though he couldn't see much, he knew there was a park across the street. After a few minutes of trudging, he came across a park bench and flopped down with a huff. _Heh, I guess I'm just out of shape as I was back in the underground,_ he mused. He leaned over and put his head in his hands, trying not to think about what had been worrying him over the past few weeks. He sat in the snow, unmoving, unthinking, for what felt like hours. Then he heard a crunching shuffle, the sound of someone walking through snow, and his head jerked up. There, shrouded in snow, was the silhouette he had come to fear. It was Frisk, staring at him through flurries. They dug their hands into their sweater and regarded him for a moment.

"Mind if I sit down?" Sans hesitated, confused.

"Uh, kiddo, I'm not sure I could stop you if I wanted to." Unconsciously, Sans shifted further down the bench as Frisk sat down.

"We need to talk," they said. Sans chuckled at that.

"What about, bud? I could fill a book with the things we need to talk about." Frisk thought for a few seconds, seemingly gathering their thoughts, before pushing on.

"We need to talk about Chara."


	2. Chapter 2

Sans' eye flashed blue for a moment.

"How do you know that name? You shouldn't… Only three people alive should know who Chara was." Frisk sighed and scratched their cheek, staring at the faint outline of the wrought-iron fence that marked the boundary of the park.

"Just let me explain," Frisk sighed. "Chara is at the center of all of this. I am going to be very blunt here, so try not to get upset about anything I say. To start off, I want you to know that up to the first genocide run, everything I did was by choice. After that point, the ability to decide was taken away from me and I was kept a prisoner in my own body. It's true that I decided to… kill monsters, but I didn't like it. Nothing else had worked, so I figured if I tried something new, maybe I would learn something." Without warning, Sans rocketed to his feet and shoved a hand forward, and Frisk's soul materialized and turned blue with a _ping._ Sans forced them to their feet, grabbed them by the collar and looked them dead in the eye.

"That's why you did this? Why you tore everything to the ground?" Sans' voice dripped with venom. "Just so you could _learn_ something and see what's different? This isn't a game, kid. You hurt so many monsters so many times, and you're telling me you did that just so you could see what would happen?"

The conversation ground to a halt for an uncomfortable stretch. Gradually, the snowfall lightened and eventually stopped, leaving the ground covered with an even layer of snow. The snow looked yellow where the street lamp's light reflected off of it, and a cold, dark grey in the uninviting world beyond.

Frisk gently took hold of Sans' sleeve.

"Yes, Sans. I know it was wrong and I shouldn't have done it. I was young back then."

Sans eyed Frisk and slowly set them down, letting his magic dissipate.

"And you're not young now?"

Frisk squinted at him.

"You of all people should understand how a person can age on the inside and not on the outside, especially when resets are involved. Especially when you're forced to watch from the backseat as someone tears down the world you've come to love over and over again."

"What do you even mean by that, kiddo? First it was you were a prisoner in your own body, now you're saying you were in the backseat. What does that mean?"

Frisk sighed. It was a hollow, familiar sound. Sans knew all too well what complete surrender to the world sounded like, and that sigh was it.

"That's where Chara comes in," Frisk said. Then they paused. Without a word, they pulled out their phone, retreated under a snow-laden oak a few yards away, and made a call. Sans could only stare at them. The kid didn't seem menacing or evil so much as they seemed uncaring. Their comment about aging had really gotten to Sans. Frisk hadn't been the first human to fall to the Underground, and they certainly hadn't been the only one with the determination to reset. There had been others, and each one of them had reset hundreds of times before their determination faltered and they died permanently. Sans must have lived ten lifetimes by now, and a monster just wasn't supposed to exist for that long. His gaze softened somewhat, realizing just how much pressure Frisk had been under. Sans was an adult when he first encountered reset shenanigans, but Frisk? They had to be what, nine? Ten? Way too young to handle it.

Unable to keep a small grin from splitting his features, Sans extended a hand and used his blue magic to shake some snow loose from the oak tree onto Frisk's head. They shot him a curious look. It had been a long time since Sans had joked around with Frisk.

"Sorry," Sans chuckled. "You know I've got _snow_ control over these powers of mine." A complete falsehood, but a punny one nonetheless.

Frisk crunched back to Sans from the shadows of tree, leaving a set of footprints in the otherwise pristine blanket of snow, a very faint grin on their face.

"That wasn't very _ice_ of you," they deadpanned.

Sans laughed out loud at that, a bit harder than he meant to. His smile faded.

"Kiddo, I missed this so much. I miss the adventure, the fun, the excitement, back when you were new to the Underground. You made me believe that the things I did might have actually mattered in the end, despite the resets. What happened to you?"

Frisk almost looked guilty, their smile fading and their eyes sliding away from Sans'.

"I'll tell you once Asgore gets here."


	3. Chapter 3

**Fans of Goat Mom beware. She gets a rather scathing review here.**

"Asgore?" Sans asked. "Was he who you were calling? Why does Asgore need to get involved in this?"

"Because he deserves to know," Frisk replied tiredly. "You know Chara was his adopted child, and Chara is the key to this whole mess."

Sans digested Frisk's words for a few moments.

"What about Toriel?" Sans asked. "She was Chara's mom."

Frisk's gaze hardened.

"I've got a few reasons for not telling her. First off, she can be way too emotional at times, and trust me, she would not be able to handle what I'm going to tell you and Asgore. Second, she annoys me."

Sans raised his eyebrow ridges at that.

"She _annoys_ you? Bud, you've been living with her since we got out of the underground. You should know by now that she's pretty great."

Frisk sat silently for a moment.

"I live with her because I have nowhere else to go." They shook their head, as if trying to clear it, and pushed on as if they hadn't just said something that was terribly depressing. "Look, I know you enjoyed exchanging jokes with her, but have you ever _really_ thought about what she did? She lost two kids, that's true, and that's terrible, but she left the entire mess to Asgore for him to deal with while she ran away to some obscure corner to try and replace the children she'd lost. Not only is that super unhealthy and creepy, it's also kinda insulting to me personally, like she doesn't really care who I am and really just wants me to be a replacement for what she's lost."

Sans scratched his head, not sure what to say. Frisk's tone had acquired some heat during that little monologue.

"I don't know if I'd say replace, kiddo. She probably just wanted to protect you from the dangers outside."

But Frisk was already shaking their head, gently swinging their feet back and forth.

"I get why you'd say that, Sans. I really do. I thought the same thing at first. But the more runs I completed, the more my opinion changed. Not once did she just let me leave without fighting me, Sans. She physically attacked me because I wanted to leave. That's not very protective, more like a selfish attempt to keep me to herself. She even managed to kill me a few times. Plus, she would keep calling me her 'child.' When I asked her to stop, she wouldn't. Also, she kept trying to convince me that I liked things that I frankly didn't. Cinnamon and butterscotch pies, chocolate, the yellow flowers, all the things I later found out Asriel and Chara liked. They're small things, but they add up."

As Frisk continued, Sans reevaluated the goat lady he thought he knew so well.

"And then there's the bit about Asgore. As I'm sure you're acutely aware, Sans, a monster's health and strength are tied directly with its well-being. The more down in the dumps a monster is, the weaker it gets. Now imagine the problem Asgore faced. Essentially, both of his children had been killed by humans. As if that weren't crushing enough, then he realizes that if he doesn't do anything, monsters everywhere would lose hope. The royal family had been crushed and divided by humans, and if King Asgore himself did nothing, most monsters probably just would have given up on ever getting to the surface. He was the underground's pillar of strength. Doing nothing after humans killed his children would have sent a clear message that monsters are _nothing_ compared to humans. Doing nothing would have literally killed most of the underground off, and Asgore couldn't do that, so he was forced to declare war on humanity. He didn't want to. As Toriel said in run, what, 74? He could have just crossed the barrier after getting the first soul and taken six more. But he wouldn't, because he hated it.

He was trapped, Sans. Trapped into choosing one of two impossible choices, and when he makes the harder choice for the good of the underground, what does Toriel do? She abandons him, abandons everyone, and just lets him deal with the problem himself. It must have crushed him, and she just left him to deal with that guilt and pain alone while she tried to live a fantasy."

Frisk finally stopped, breathing a bit heavily, their breath showing as puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Out of his peripheral vision, Sans notices a huge, fluffy hand fall onto Frisks shoulder. Sans jerks, surprised, to see that the massive form of Asgore had appeared behind the bench, and he was crying.


	4. Chapter 4

"Did you hear all that?" Frisk asks.

Asgore only nods sadly.

"Then why are you crying?" They demand. "If anything, you should be really angry."

Asgore shakes his head grievously.

"No, Frisk, you misunderstand. I'm not crying about Toriel leaving me. I really don't blame her. Monsters handle grief differently, and Toriel doesn't like to face it directly. No, I'm upset because you never got a chance to grow up."

Asgore padded next to the bench and dropped to the ground with a thud. Even with Frisk sitting on the bench, Asgore's eyes were level with theirs.

"Asriel has been explaining what he went through to me. The resets, determination, the works. He said you had been resetting the world, but I never even thought it would have damaged you this badly, Frisk. You are but a mere child, yet you have been forced to deal with problems most full-grown monsters couldn't handle on their own. Asriel says you even had to fight me. How many times did I…?"

Frisk's expression shifted, and they murmered "Forty two," with little hesitation.

Asgore's eyes welled up with tears once again and he threw himself onto Frisk with a hug, his cape almost completely enshrouding their tiny body.

Sans stared at the spectacle, not sure what to do or say. Eventually, Asgore released Frisk, slouched back, and asked, "So, what is it you wanted to tell us, Frisk?"

Frisk stared at their lap, their hands folded neatly.

"Well, I feel I owe Sans an explanation because he can remember what happened, and I owe you an explanation because of who's involved. As I said to Sans before you arrived, this whole mess has everything to do with Chara."

Asgore visibly stiffened at the name, but remained silent.

Frisk paused, then sighed. "Wow," they said. "There's so much to say, but I don't even know where to begin."

"Start with what you were about to explain before you called Asgore, the thing about how you were in the backseat, or not in control of your own body, or something," Sans suggested.

Frisk was already nodding before he finished speaking. "Yeah, that's actually a really good place to start. So what you and Asgore know is that Chara died a long time ago. What you _don't_ know is that their soul stuck around. Long story short, Chara possessed me after I finished the first genocide run. They talked to me from the very first day I spent in the underground, but it wasn't until that run that they took control."

"Ok," Sans said, "that explains a little, but why did they wait that long to take over?"

"Well, soul possession is actually pretty tough to do. The possessing soul has to have massive amounts of determination, and the soul it displaces has to be somewhat similar to the possessor. Chara was… a very violent person, so it wasn't until I had a lot of dust on my hands that they could take over."

"Wait," Asgore interrupted, holding up a massive, fluffy paw. "Frisk, what do you mean by dust? Did you…" He let the question hang, too afraid to finish it.

Frisk stared at the ground, too ashamed to look Asgore in the eye, and the silence stretched on. After what felt like minutes, Frisk finally spoke.

"Yes." The word fell from their lips like a hunk of lead.

Sans noticed Frisk's eyes were starting to glisten. When he moved to put a hand on their shoulder, they pushed his arm away.

"Yes, Asgore," they repeated, "I killed monsters. Lots of monsters. I'd tried so many times to get everyone out of the underground, but I couldn't save Asriel. I spent dozens, maybe hundreds of runs just trying to figure out how to save him, and Chara was whispering to me the entire time. _This isn't working,_ they would say. _You've tried everything except fighting back._ I didn't want to, not at first, but after so many failures, they managed to convince me they were right. So I killed about half of the monsters in the underground. It wasn't until I killed Mettaton that Chara got strong enough to take over, and then they finished what I started. To be honest, Asgore, Sans gave Chara a much harder time than you did."

Asgore just looked confused, while Sans grinned at him with a blue eye.

"Then Chara did another genocide run, and another, and another, and another, and I could only sit and watch. They killed so many monsters, so many times, and the worst part is that it was all my fault. Chara just kept going and going and going. I don't know why they did what they did. I think they were just angry at the world, but I'm not sure. Eventually, they just got bored and let me have my body back."

Sans and Asgore were slightly incredulous.

"Just like that?" Asgore asked.

Frisk nodded "Yeah, I found it hard to believe, too. But when they left, that's when the bombshell got dropped. When I tried to reset, _I couldn't._ It was never my power, never my determination that caused the resets. Chara was just letting me use theirs. I think they wanted something, and I'm really worried that they might have gotten it. Either way, after all of that, I finally managed to figure out how to save everyone and complete a true pacifist run, and here we are."

There was a brief silence.

"That's… wow," Sans sighed. "If that's really what happened, then you're stronger than I am, Frisk. I wouldn't have been able to cope with that. I'm just glad it's over."

Asgore slowly turned to look at Sans, and Sans could almost see the wheels turning in his head. While he thought, Frisk sighed sadly and looked to Sans.

"I don't know if I have coped with it. I caused so much pain, and here I am, not having faced any consequences. I know there's something inside me that's broken. It almost feels like my emotions have been dampened. I don't like how objective I've become. Heck, here I am talking about my extensive emotional issues and I'm not even batting an eyelash. Sometimes I can talk about all of the terrible things Chara did in my body and not feel _anything,_ and that scares me, Sans."

For a time, no one spoke.

"Is it really over?" Asgore asked, breaking the silence..

Frisk and Sans shot sharp glances at him.

"What do you mean, Asgore?" Frisk asked.

"Well…" he began slowly, " Sans said it's over. Is it? If Chara's soul was just floating around before Frisk fell to the underground, why would it just disappear after letting you go? What if it's still around? And with the barrier shattered…"

"It could get out," Frisk finished the thought for him. "And they could possess anyone they want. If they could bring the underground to its knees with my body, just imagine what they could do with the body of an adult."

Sans and Frisk shuddered at the thought. Asgore seemed concerned too, but he had never witness the world-breaking power that Chara wielded.

"Maybe," Sans said, his voice wobbling, "Maybe they found peace, or something? Some spiritual mumbo-jumbo that let their soul move on?"

"Maybe," Frisk said, "But what if Asgore is right? What if they did get out?"

The skeleton, the child and the goat, three broken misfits, sat together in the darkness, the silence and the cold, dreading what the future may bring.

 _AN: A question for the lovely viewers: What to you guys think of the pacing? I've mostly been writing this as it comes to me, so I'm afraid the pacing may be a bit wonky. Your thoughts? Also, thanks so much for taking the time to read this story!_


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Quick thanks to all you guys who took the time to read this story. It means a lot. In other news, I think I might be ending this soon. I know it's not incredibly long, but I've done most of what I wanted to do with these characters. Then again, it might go on a lot longer. Who knows._

The three of them sat on (or in Asgore's case, next to) that bench until the first gentle rays of dawn began to filter through the thin clouds. Upon seeing the light, Asgore shifted, knocking a bit of powdery snow off of his cape as he stood, joints creaking.

"Welp," he grunted, "I should get going. I'd like to at least get a bit of sleep before I go to work, and I don't want Asriel to wake up to an empty home."

Having no marketable skills besides being strong, fluffy and friendly, Asgore had taken up a job as a groundskeeper at the human-monster school Toriel began working at once they had escaped the underground. Thankfully, Toriel had been kind enough to 'forget' to tell the human parents and staff about Asgore's previous dealings with children. Frisk groaned as they realized that they too were expected to be at that school in a little over an hour. Upon that realization, they slowly stood from the bench.

"I guess I should try to get some sleep too. Plus I don't want Toriel to freak the heck out if she thinks I'm missing."

As Frisk and Asgore started walking, Sans lazily stood and chuckled.

"I love having no responsibilities."

True to form, the diminutive skeleton had made no efforts to find any sort of employment, or do anything, really, since escaping the underground. He figured he'd stay on the dole until the human government stopped paying for the recently emigrated monsters' bills.

Frisk, on the other hand, was very _very_ bogged down with responsibilities. Juggling reintegrating into human society, school, this whole mess with Chara, being the gosh dang human embassador for the monsters, and dealing with their mental scarring was taking its toll, leaving them feeling exhausted all the time. They were not looking forward to going through an entire school day on only one hour of sleep.

When they arrived home, they mentally cursed. They had initially planned to sneak through the front door, but it had been snowing. If Toriel opened the door and saw a Frisk-sized set of footprints leading to the house, she would definitely figure out that Frisk had been out. Determined to keep their excursion a secret, Frisk cut through their neighbor's yard, circling around to the back of Toriel's house to infiltrate the home in a more covert manner. They would still leave footprints, but they figured Toriel wouldn't go out back until the sun or the wind had destroyed the prints. Thankfully, they always left the window to their room unlocked in case of this very scenario. They eased the window open on its hinge, feeling a blissful burst of warm air from the inside. Once they had silently opened the portal, they started on the hard part: Getting through the window without dropping it. The house was newly built so the hinges didn't squeal, but if Frisk lost their hold on the window it would fall and bang on the frame. Heart in their mouth, the slowly put one foot up and over the opening, slowly, carefully shifted their weight, and bam. Just like that, they were inside.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Frisk straightened up and looked around their room, only to freeze and fall back in horror. There, one the other side of the room by the door, hung a mirror. For that split second they had looked in the mirror, their reflection had seemed to have the glowing red eyes and twisted smile Frisk had come to know all too well.

 _It's just a mirror, Frisk. It's just your reflection,_ they told themself, curling up on the floor, but no matter how hard they squeezed themself, they couldn't stop shivering, their heart pounding as they relived some of the hell they had endured. When Chara hadn't been killing monsters on the outside, they had been tormenting Frisk on the inside.

Shakily, Frisk reached up from the floor and closed the window the rest of the way, then, without even standing up, heaved themself up onto their bed. They laid on top of the blankets in a cold sweat, staring at the ceiling for a while, trying their best not to think about the past. It was six-thirty A.M when they finally fell asleep… and their alarm went off at seven-fifteen.

With an almighty groan, they rolled out of bed and shambled, zombie-like, to their bathroom where they brushed their teeth, halfheartedly attempted to tame their messy hair, and splashed some cold water on their face. Not bothering to look at the switch, they tried to turn the light off, missing a few times before finally succeeding and leaving their room behind. Shuffling down the hall, they heard Toriel up and about in the kitchen. They almost tripped on the rug in the sitting room, but managed to recover as they stumbled into the kitchen. Toriel looked up as the entered.

"Good morning, my child! Your breakfast is ready."

Frisk merely grunted in reply as they approached the counter and started brewing a pot of coffee. Toriel was a tea drinker, but Frisk had made sure she acquired a coffee-maker soon after moving in. While the machine worked its magic, Frisk plopped into a chair and stared at the plate in front of them. Eggs and bacon that looked like a smiley face, because of course Toriel would. They had managed to shove about half of the contents of their plate into their mouth when the maker beeped, signaling that the caffeine delivery system was ready. Frisk drained the entire pot before Toriel dragged them out of the house to walk to school.

It wasn't a new school. It had been in use before the monsters escaped the underground, but the town at the foot of Mt. Ebbot was a relatively small one, and the school was only at about half of its maximum enrollment, leaving just enough room to fit in a bunch of monster children and a few monster teachers. Now it loomed in front of Frisk, big and intimidating and grey. After Toriel and Frisk pushed through the glass doors, they parted. Toriel went to the teachers' lounge to prepare for the day, and Frisk found their classroom, put their backpack on a hook and promptly fell asleep at one of the desks.

"Frisk?" Someone was poking them.

"Hey, bud. Wake up." Frisk slowly became aware of a constant buzz of conversation going on the background. They groaned and waved a hand in the general direction of the voice, trying to push the source away.

"Stop being so dramatic," the voice said. "Homeroom starts in like two minutes."

Frisk opened their eyes at that, and slowly peeled their face off the desk and found themself blinking at Joe, one of the few human children in Frisk's homeroom that wasn't wary of them.

"Thanks, Joe," they grunted. "Last night was rough."

"Oh?" Joe said, an eyebrow rising. "You party too hard or something?"

Frisk shook their head. "It's… Well, it's complicated. You wouldn't understand, anyway."

Joe seemed slightly fazed by this, his smile fading as he said goodbye and returned to his seat.

Left alone, Frisk looked around the room. It was mostly full, considering how as Joe said, homeroom was about to start. Frisk had chosen a seat in the rear corner of the classroom, and had proceeded to push their desk even further back, out of the organized rows, to maintain some sense of privacy. The chaos in before them was almost amusing, in a morbid way. Almost. Some kids were drawing, some were finishing their homework from the night before, a few were running around and they were all yelling. Frisk hated it. They knew they were supposed to be happy and carefree like the other kids, but they weren't. Instead, their thoughts turned to Chara for the short moment of peace before the bell.

For the most part, the day wasn't too eventful. Frisk slogged through their morning classes and finally managed to wake up by lunchtime. Then, after lunch, came the time that Frisk both loved and hated: Afternoon recess. On one hand, it was nice because they got to interact with the monster students. Since most of the monster children had little to no foundation in the subjects humans studied, they were all separated into remedial classes designed to have them caught up in two years. Frisk, having already attended school before falling into Mt. Ebbot, was not included in their group. On the other, horrible hand, recess sucked because there was much less adult supervision and the kids could be as nasty as they pleased.

Frisk sat isolated on a swing, thinking how they must have resembled the very picture of loneliness, when Reggie decided to make an appearance. He was in seventh, maybe eighth grade and was oh-so-very full of himself. After what they had been through, his jabs and japes held no sting. It was the social ramifications that bothered Frisk. Making human friends and just being normal would be much harder than it needed to be with Reggie around. Kids were already cautious around Frisk, and knowing that associating with them might make them one of Reggie's targets would ensure that Frisk would make almost no new friends.

 _Then again,_ Frisk mused as Reggie leered at them, _maybe I shouldn't even try to make friends with kids at this point. I doubt there are many, if any kids who could relate to me._

"So," Reggie blustered, distracting Frisk from their thoughts, "Looks like the monster can't take a hint."

Frisk rolled their eyes. Yesterday, Reggie had told them to stay inside during recess, an order Frisk didn't even consider.

"Human," they said.

Reggie frowned, puzzled.

"You called me a monster, you dolt," Frisk continued. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm a human. Then again, with humans like you, being a monster doesn't sound bad at all."

Reggie just smirked. "So you think you're some tough guy, huh? Well, let me tell you…"

Frisk cut him off. Something incredibly nasty was surfacing from their subconscious and they weren't about to repress it.

"No, Reggie. I _know_ I'm tough." They pulled out a tough-glove and manly-bandana from their back pocket and started putting them on as they spoke. "I've seen people die," they said, avoiding the term 'monster,' for obvious reasons, "good people, my best friends, die before my very eyes more times than I can count. I've died myself, many many times, and every single time _**I crawled back.**_ I fought the most powerful monsters in the underground and won. I fought a _**demon**_ for my very own soul and won. I went through hell and back to get where I am today, leaving a lifetime's worth of suffering resting on my shoulders. I have so much dust on my hands that whenever I look at them they seem grey. I've been through so much that if you think that a pathetic, petulant _**child**_ like you intimidates me for even one second, then you have got another thing coming," Frisk snarled, shaking with fury. This boy, this _nothing_ had the nerve to challenge them. He had no idea how insignificant he was compared to the vastness of Frisk's experiences.

Insignificant or not, Reggie was not the brightest. His posse, not having understood everything Frisk said, was still cowed. Reggie, on the other hand, pulled back his fist to throw a punch.

"If you throw that punch," Frisk said in a dangerously quiet voice, "I will break your arm."

Reggie hesitated, and then tried to punch Frisk anyway. His fist passed through empty space. Frisk may not have increased their level of violence since the last reset, but their foray in the underground had left them considerably stronger and lightning fast. In a flash, they were on Reggie, grabbing him by the wrist and flipping him onto the ground. Before he could recover, Frisk had his arm in a hold, their face disturbingly blank as they applied an ever increasing pressure to Reggie's arm.

"I-I give," Reggie stammered, realizing he had made a huge mistake.

Frisk just pulled harder.

"Ow ow ow ow oooowwww! Uncle!" Reggie screeched.

Harder. Frisk knew that if they pulled just a little bit more, Reggie's arm would snap. They prepared to give a final, savage yank when a voice interrupted them.

"Frisk! Stop it!"

Their face cracked into a frown. They knew that voice, but were too tired and angry to place it. Looking away from Reggie's arm, which happened to be bent at an unnatural angle, Frisk was a bit surprised at the crowd which had formed around the spectacle. Surveying the faces, they picked out the one that had caught their attention. Asriel.

"Frisk, please stop!" He was crying.

Frisk stared at him for a moment before abruptly releasing Reggie, who scrambled away frantically, nursing his arm. A moment later, Asriel had thrown his arms around Frisk in a tight hug.

"Frisk! Are you okay? Why would you do that?"

Frisk didn't say anything for a moment. Slowly, they put their arms around Asriel and returned the hug.

"I don't know, Asriel," they whispered. They wanted to cry, to have some profound moment as they realized that they had made a mistake, but that moment never came.

Word got around quick. The cliche is that when a kid stands up to a bully, everyone who was afraid to hang out with the victim before suddenly wants to be friends. That was not the case with Frisk. They heard that Frisk stood up to Reggie, and they _also_ heard how savagely they had attacked him and ended up staying further away from Frisk than they ever had before. The monsters found out too. Toriel and Asgore were among the first to hear about it, since they were both staff at the school and Frisk's adoptive parents. Toriel, of course, almost had a panic attack as they checked Frisk for injuries. Ultimately, she ended up calling for a meeting among the boss monsters. Something about public relations, or whatever. There had been a few monster-human fights at the school, but Frisk's altercation pushed toriel over the edge and she was determined to do something about it. Now, Frisk was sitting on Toriel's sofa between Sans and Asgore, bored out of their mind as Toriel was prattling on about how monsters and humans absolutely have to get along. It had all been said before, back when monsters first emerged and the storm of PR and press was in full swing. Frisk looked from side to side, examining their sofa-mates. Sans seemed bored too, but then again, he almost always did. Asgore, on the other hand, looked like he had something to say. His brow was scrunched up and he was staring at Toriel, occasionally flicking his gaze to Frisk. Frisk cracked a smile at him. They knew he wasn't saying anything because Toriel would likely shoot him down before he got anywhere. She tolerated his presence, but she certainly didn't like him, especially since Asriel had decided to live with him.

"Yo, Tori," Frisk interrupted, "I think Asgore's got something to say."

Toriel stopped talking for a moment, her deference to Frisk fighting with her dislike of Asgore.

"Very well," she muttered, finally. "What is it, Asgore?" Asgore took a deep breath before launching into what he had to say.

"I think, Toriel, that you may be confusing the issue." She glared at him, but he pressed on. "From what you've been saying, it seems to me that you're afraid that humans are not accepting monsters and I simply don't believe that's true. Yes, there have been a few fights, but it's never been unnatural for humans to fight humans and for monsters to fight monsters. With the two groups mixed together again, squabbles between humans and monsters are inevitable. Overall, it looks like they've accepted our existence in stride. Personally, I don't feel ostracized by the humans, and they've all been very kind to me in my time on the surface."

"IT'S TRUE," Papyrus chimed in, "I'VE GOTTEN IN FOUR CAR ACCIDENTS SO FAR AND THE HUMANS HAVE ALL BEEN VERY PATIENT WITH ME."

"What is your point, Asgore?" Toriel asked hotly.

Calm as ever, Asgore continued. "My point, Toriel, is that I think the incident that occurred the other day may have more to do with Frisk individually than with us monsters as a whole. It's not that humans aren't accepting monsters so much as they're not accepting Frisk. There's much more going on with them than any of us realizes." He looked meaningfully at Frisk, who shook their head adamantly. Silence followed.

"Kiddo," Sans murmured so nobody else could hear, "They deserve to know." Frisk merely sighed and let their shoulders slump.

"Alright, fine," they said. "But I don't want to explain it to them. You understand the timeline shenanigans better than I do, anyway. And," they added, looking guilty, "Don't tell them everything, ok?"

As Sans nodded in understanding, Undyne called out from across the room.

"Explain what, pipsqueak? You haven't been keeping secrets from your bestie, have you?" She laughed, the jab having been meant as a joke, but her smile faded as Frisk's deadly serious eyes locked with her own.

"Alright," Sans began. "Everybody sit down and be quiet. That means you, Papyrus and Mettaton. This is some seriously mind blowing stuff, and you're not going to want to miss it."


	6. Chapter 6

_Cursing warning on this one, for the children._

Nobody said anything after Sans finished explaining the current situation.

"So basically," he said, "I think this whole mess with time, determination and Chara has left Frisk with some serious issues, not the least of which is their severe 'developmental temporal displacement.'"

"YOU JUST MADE THAT UP, DIDN'T YOU SANS?" Papyrus challenged. Sans just winked.

"The term, yes. The phenomenon, no. The gist of the problem is that Frisk spent, by my calculation, roughly five years stuck in that time loop, leaving their mind to develop without letting their body catch up."

"W-w-well wait a m-minute," Alphys stammered. "If that's the case, then shouldn't y-you and Asriel have been affected, too?" Sans nodded, considering the question.

"Good point. Well, the difference between the two of us and Frisk is that our temporal displacement constitutes a much smaller fraction of how long we've been alive than it did for Frisk. I'm displaced by over a decade, but that's only like, four percent of my current age. It would've taken centuries to really mess me up. Frisk, on the other hand, was displaced by over fifty percent of their age, which has got to cause some serious psychological problems. They had to mature emotionally without their brain being able to physically develop." Silence followed.

"YOU KNOW, SANS," Papyrus said, trying to lighten the mood, "YOU'RE SO LAZY THAT I SOMETIMES FORGET YOU'RE A SCIENTIST." Sans' grin broadened slightly, but nobody else seemed too amused.

"And that's only one part of the problem," Asgore interjected. "You and Asriel weren't possessed by a demon for any length of time, let alone years."

Toriel had been quietly sobbing over the pain Frisk must have endured, but when she heard Asgore use the word 'demon,' her head snapped up, rage in her teary eyes.

"Demon?" she hissed. "Asgore, that's Chara you're talking about! Our child! How could you say that?" She buried her face in her hands, wanting to just block everything out.

"Actually," Sans said gently, "Asgore might not be too far off the mark." When Toriel shot him an accusatory glare, Sans held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm sorry, Toriel, but it's true. When a soul exists outside a body, it starts to break down. That's why the souls of the six children had to be kept in those special tanks. They would have disappeared over time if we just left them. From what I've gathered, Chara's soul has been persisting on its own for a long, long time. Whatever that... thing, is, it's not Chara anymore, not really."

Toriel didn't challenge Sans, but her tears made it quite clear that she wasn't ready to accept his words as the truth just yet.

"So the problem," Frisk interrupted sadly, "Is that you all think I'm broken and you have no idea how to put this humpty dumpty back together again. I didn't ask for any of this, but here I am. I'm afraid of myself now. I don't even want to think about what I would have done to Reggie if Asriel hadn't interrupted."

"Speaking of," Asgore asked, "Why did you stop when you saw Asriel, anyway?"

Frisk scrunched up their face, thinking.

"I don't know," they said. "I just saw him and sort of… froze, I guess. Not sure why."

Again, silence.

"Frisk," Sans slowly said, "Would you mind if I took a look at your soul? Something about this situation seems a bit off to me."

Frisk thought for a moment, then nodded, a concerned look on their face.

Sans extended a skeletal hand, and with a _ping,_ Frisk's soul materialized, red and pulsating. Everything looked normal, except…

"Frisk, What. Is. That?"

Around the edges of Frisk soul sat a glob of what looked like black sludge.

A brief look of horror crossed Frisk's face, but then they froze and their expression went entirely blank. In an instant, the sludge encompassed Frisk's soul, turning it pitch black and, their soul rocketed back inside their body. They shook violently for a few moments, then went still. Slowly, an insane grin spread across their face.

" **Took you long enough to notice, Sans,"** they laughed. " **Though I am a bit disappointed. I was hoping to see how you'd handle seeing your precious, innocent Frisk** _ **murdering**_ **one of their classmates, but then you had to go and find me out."**

"Chara," Sans sneered. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

" **Ha! Nice act, tough guy! For a second there, you were almost intimidating, but your shaking knees gave it away."** Sans' knees were indeed wobbling. " **As for why I'm here, I was just hitching a ride on Frisk, causing a little mayhem as I went along until you guys found me. Here's the thing. You were right. I** _ **do**_ **want an adult body. Why am I telling you? Because I know there is nothing you can do to stop me, and I just wanted to watch you squirm before I started looking for new housing. Oh, and while I'm here, here's something to remember me by."**

Without warning, Frisk's hand slipped down to their waist and retrieved a hidden kitchen knife. They brandished it for a moment, then flipped it around and sent it plunging toward Frisk's gut. Sans' eye flared blue and the knife was enveloped in a blue shroud, stopping inches away from Frisk's body. Chara, the puppeteer, simply smiled even wider.

" **Neat trick, pal. But I've gotten a little bit stronger since we last met."**

With a flick of their wrist, the blue aura shattered and the knife resumed its deadly descent. And once again, it stopped inches away from Frisk. Now Chara frowned.

" **What is it this time?"** They paused again, frown deepening as their wrist began to shake. " **Oho! Showing a bit of fight, are we?"** Their expression shifted again, to a look of determined anger.

"Chara," Frisk hissed through gritted teeth, once again in control, "get out. We used to be compatible, but we're not anymore." To back up Frisk's words, the knife began to slowly, inexorably move away from their body. The silent battle continued for what seemed like hours, Frisk's fingers slowly peeling off the knife one at a time until it fell from their grasp. As soon as the knife hit the ground, a dark essence surged out of Frisk's chest, disappearing into the air.

" **Well that was unexpected,"** Chara's disembodied voice chuckled. " **Didn't think you had it in you to banish me. Still, you're all doomed once I find an adult body."** Everyone could hear their insane laughter receding until it finally vanished. Silence seemed to be a theme on that day, because once again the room went quiet. Finally, Sans spoke.

"Well, that's concerning, isn't it? The creepy stuff aside, they broke my magic. They shouldn't even have been able to _do_ that."

"I can only imagine what they'll do to the the others," Frisk said, still shaking from their ordeal, "if you're the strongest monster alive and they could break your magic that easily." Their words were met by massive protest from Asgore, and Undyne especially.

"Sans," Undyne snarled, "After we destroy that creepy punk you and Frisk owe me a fight. A _real_ fight."

"Whoa, hey," Frisk said, waving their hands at Undyne. "Trust me, you _do not_ want a real fight with Sans." Before Undyne could volley a retort, Asgore cut in.

"What I don't understand is why we're talking about who's stronger than who when Frisk was just possessed violently and almost stabbed to death. Frisk, how are you feeling?" Frisk considered the question.

"You know, even though the adrenaline is subsiding, I feel surprisingly ok. I guess that tends to happen when a demonic entity suddenly stops leeching off of your life essence. But that's not really important right now. Seriously, that display should have all of you on edge. I know none of you has seen it before, but Sans has the strongest magic I've ever seen. Asriel's wasn't that much stronger even after absorbing _seven_ human souls, and that's just in raw power. Sans has a much higher degree of control, and it worries me very much that Chara could just break it like that."

Asgore eyed Sans with a look somewhere between admiration and suspicion. "Well that's certainly impressive. How did you even get your magic to be that strong, Sans?"

Sans' pupils disappeared, a clear signal that the topic was off-limits. "That's not too important right now, King Fluffybuns. What is important is dealing with this monster, and right now, I only have one idea how to do it." He paused for dramatic effect.

"W-well?" Alphys asked.

"We've got to enlist the monster who knows the most about determination and human souls."

"And who might that be, darling?" Mettaton chimed in, loving the theatrics. Sans paused again.

"Me and Paps's dad. W.D Gaster."

Everyone in the room except Frisk and Sans was hit with a wave of deja vu at the mention of the name.

"You and Papyrus have a dad?" Alphys asked. "That's, uhh, unexpected. Also, I feel like I've heard the name before but I can't place it."

"Not surprising," Sans muttered. "Everyone in this room was personally acquainted with Gaster. He was the Royal scientist before Alphys, and I worked with him. After the humans started falling down here, one of the more violent children tried to fight him… Heh. Anyway, as they were fighting, he noticed that the kid seemed to know what he was going to do before he even did it. He asked the kid about it, and he told him that it was really the, what, fiftieth time they had fought, and explained the resets. The kid kept trying and trying until his determination gave out and he died permanently. Now, to Gaster, that all seemed to happen in one fight, but it really took quite a few. Curiosity piqued, he started studying the kid's soul and the other soul that had been collected so far and wound up discovering determination. Then Paps n' me came into the picture. One thing led to another and he started studying time travel. Then, during an experiment, he basically wiped himself and four other monsters from reality. That's why you recognize the name but remember nothing."

"Oh, of course," Undyne sighed. "Of course there's a mystery guy who tore the fabric of reality and erased himself from existence. Anyone want to drop any more bombshells today?"

Without hesitation, Frisk piped up. "I'm actually a girl!"

"Really?" Asked Undyne.

"No."

"Then why would you say that?!"

"I thought it would be funny."

"Well it wasn't you little -"

"Quiet!" Alphys interrupted. "Sans, if Gaster were wiped from reality, then how do you remember him, and how do you plan to get him back?"

Sans gave a mirthless laugh. "That's the question, isn't it? I've been trying to figure that out for years. I might have something, but it's a stretch at best. I can show you if you want. Oh, and Asgore, you can come too. I might need your help with it."

Asgore stared at Sans for a moment, perplexed. "The sciences have never been my strong suit, but if you believe I can aid you then I will accompany you."

"Cool," sans said. "Frisk, put your hand on my back. We're gonna take a shortcut."

Frisk promptly complied as Sans put his hands on Alphys's and Asgore's backs, respectively. Then, with a ping, the four winked out of existence.

Once again, with a ping, they all reappeared at the rim of a gaping hole. Asgore looked around and realized from the view that they were standing on Mt. Ebbot.

"If this is Mt. Ebbot, then that hole must lead-"

"To the Underground, yeah," Sans finished. "Sorry, I would have made the trip in one jump if I could have, but taking three others with me makes it kinda hard."

Again, the four disappeared. This time, they appeared outside Sans and Papyrus's old house in Snowdin.

"Wait here," Sans said as he went inside.

The other three looked around. Snowdin, the town that used to be so full of life and energy, a bustling hub of the Underground, was deserted. It felt so lonely, almost haunted. After the barrier had broken, every single monster in the underground had moved to the surface leaving the underground full of empty towns and abandoned memories. Frisk shivered unconsciously. Alphys looked uncomfortable. Asgore just stared, stunned. For so many years he had ruled alone from his castle, not wanting the citizens of the underground to see how broken he had become, and now, the first time he visits a undertown in decades, he finds it an empty, abandoned husk of what is used to be. It was a rather sobering moment. Abruptly, the door Sans had passed through flew open again with a bang. Frisk noticed he was carrying a key.

"Come on," he waved for the others to follow. They went around to the back of the house where Sans ripped off some siding and revealed a hidden door. He inserted the key into the lock, turned it slowly and was rewarded with a loud click. Almost of its own bidding, the door swung inward, creaking ominously. Sans strode into the room purposefully, flicking on a lightswitch without looking as he went. As the fluorescent lightbulbs flickered on, the group were greeted with the sight of a small laboratory. It was mostly bare, decorated with a few workbenches covered with tools, but Sans ignored all that as he beelined to a large object covered with a dusty tarp that sat in the rear corner of the room. He yanked off the tarp with a flourish, revealing an odd looking machine with some sort of monitor. Without hesitation, Sans punched a button and the machine whirred to life, a single green bar blinking on the screen. Sans started furiously typing commands, talking as he went.

"So I've done a lot of research on what happened to Gaster, and I'm pretty sure I've figured out exactly what happened. I think he succeeded in going back in time, but I don't think he went back in _our_ time. Basically, multiverse theory's a bitch. Sorry, Frisk," he added as an afterthought. "I've gone over the data so many times, and everytime I look at it that's the conclusion I draw. I think he went back in time but accidentally switched timelines and jumped to an alternate universe. I've been trying to isolate which one he jumped to, but there are so, so many." He tapped a few more keys and the screen changed again. "Alphys, if you could take a look at this data and verify my theory I'd appreciate it. If we do anything to get Gaster back, it's gonna involve jumping across universes, and I don't want to try that without a second opinion."

Alphys nodded, and Sans surrendered his seat to let her go through the raw data. He hovered over her shoulder and they started talking scientific jargon that went far over Frisk and Asgore's heads.

"So," Asgore began, "if we make it out of this alive, would you like to come over to my house for tea?"

"You're inviting me to a tea party?" Frisk snorted, grinning widely. "You, the giant ripped goat monster, is asking someone to a tea party? Heck yeah! Sounds awesome!"

Asgore smiled tiredly.

"Thank you, Frisk. You know, I thought things would be better after we got out of the underground, but now that I have to fight the demonic soul of my dead child, I'm not so sure."

Frisk's eyes dropped to the ground.

"Yeah… Things seem to have a nasty habit of taking a turn for the worst, don't they? But the best we can do is keep trying."

Asgore eyed Frisk, once again struck by how strong Frisk was. He dropped a paw onto their shoulder.

"You're right, Frisk… Thanks." After a brief pause, he turned over his shoulder and called to Sans, "by the way, Sans, why did you need my help, anyway? I can see why you'd want Alphys and Frisk, but I don't see how I fit in here." Sans turned away from the screen.

"We're probably going to be jumping into a different universe, and there are some dangerous ones. Underfell, Underfresh," Sans shuddered, "and we might need some muscle for that. Nobody can beat my magic, but you're the physically strongest monster there is, Asgore."

Asgore nodded, accepting the explanation.

"Sans," Alphys said, looking up from the screen, "I haven't gone through too much of this, but from the way it's looking, I'm positive you're correct about the alternate universe."

"Great," Sans grumbled. "I was kinda hoping you might come up with a better solution, but oh well. What can ya do. Right," he said, clapping his hands together, "That pretty much whittles our options down to one: Universe hopping. This machine can do it, I just haven't tried it before because I never had anyone who could pull me back, but Alphys, if you can operate the machine you can send the three of us over and bring us back."

"Um," Alphys muttered, "Doesn't this seem a bit rushed to you? And how am I even supposed to know when to pull you guys back? We won't exactly be able to talk to each other after I beam you over."

"I figure you bring us back after a week. If we don't have Gaster we can always go for another week."

"Um, ok. But doesn't this still seem rushed?"

"Look, Alphys, I'd love to waste time with goodbyes, but Chara is out there looking for a body and we don't have time to waste. You can make some calls if you want to explain what we're doing, but we've got to get going on this ASAP."

"Ok, ok. Fine. Just show me how to work this and I'll do my part."

Sans nodded and took a few minutes to give Aphys a crash-course in operating the interdimensional rift-maker. After crunching some numbers, Sans and Alphys concluded that Gaster had probably landed in dimension UAC-1. Sans had identified more than fifty universes over the course of his research, but the data only pointed at that specific dimension.

"Well, uh, make sure you're all touching each other in some way and let's make this thing happen?" she said uncertainly. Growing serious, she continued, "I'll bring you back in one week. When that time comes, make sure you're in the same area that you first appeared in, or the machine might not be able to get a lock on you. That being said… good luck, all of you."

The three nodded grimly and joined hands as Alphys punched some buttons. With a crackle and a flash, they were gone.

 **So hey, this story passed the 1,000 view marker! I don't know if that's a lot for a fanfiction, but I'm excited anyway. I think that's awesome! Thanks, you guys! Also, don't forget to drop a review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, all. Sorry this one took as long as it did. I don't really have a solid update schedule, but this one took longer than I wanted. Life's been happening (shocking, I know) and this chapter did** ** _not_** **want to be written. As always, don't forget to drop a review!**

Sans slowly opened his eyes and sat up. _This isn't my lab,_ he thought groggily as he looked around at the piles of broken masonry and patches of yellow flowers. He heard a frantic rustling behind him and looked only to see Frisk, chest heaving, frantically scrabbling for a foothold.

"This is where it all started," they whispered. "Where I first fell, and where I would appear after every reset."

Sans remained silent, but scrunched up his face in thought. _That's weird,_ he thought, _why did we move to a different location during the jump?_ He stared at the hole in the roof of the cavern. _Maybe this spot just holds some cosmic significance._ He eyed Asgore, who had slowly sat up and was staring at the ruins.

"This is the old castle," he murmured. "I haven't been here since…" he trailed off, looking nostalgic. He stood and brushed the pollen off his armor. "It's been so long."

Frisk, having recovered from their shock quickly took the lead. Sans hadn't been to the ruins before and Asgore busied himself staring at piles of rubble and running his hands along walls as his mind wandered to a bygone era, so they both happily followed Frisk, deftly working their way through the simple puzzles they had memorized by heart. After convincing a rather naive but good-natured rock to move, Frisk stopped in front of a large door and grinned at their companions.

"If this is anything like it's been for me, then you two are probably going to be excited about what's through this door."

Without another word they heaved the door open and disappeared through it.

When Sans and Asgore followed, neither was sure what Frisk had meant. Sans had never seen the place before, and even after walking around a bit, he didn't notice anything special. Asgore, too, was confused. Yes, he used to live in this house, but he had known that the instant he saw the door. Eventually, the two found Frisk, who stood alone in the middle of a hallway, staring at the door that opened up to the rest of the underground.

"Uh, kiddo," Sans asked, "what is it you wanted us to see?"

Frisk turned to them with a sigh.

"I was expecting Toriel to be here, Sans. She was the person you'd joke through the door with. Every time I started a run, she would be somewhere around here. I figured that since we didn't see her at any of the puzzles, she would be in the house, but she's just not here and I don't know why."

Sans thought for a moment.

"Remember buddy, we traveled sideways in time, not backwards. This isn't the start of a run, just a different dimension with the same time as our own. If this universe is anything like ours, then maybe Toriel left and went to the surface."

Frisk nodded, but didn't seem convinced.

"Maybe," they said softly, "but there's an awful lot of dust around here. Regular dust," they clarified, "not the kind from killing monsters. From the look of it, nobody's lived here in a very, very long time, years even. In our dimension, we've only been on the surface for a few months."

"Hmm," Sans murmured. "I guess we can chalk that up to being one of the differences between our universe and this one. Something happened in this world that made sure Toriel doesn't live in this house long before the barrier was broken." Sans paused, suddenly irritated. "Well gosh diddly darn it. If Gaster's on the surface, then that'll make tracking him down astronomically harder. I guess we should get going. No sense in standing around."

Sans shoved the door open and briskly stepped outside into a whirlwind of snow. His shoulders relaxed fractionally and he sighed. The underground had been a prison for the longest time, but it was also home. It felt good to be back, even if he were in another universe.

The three had trod silently through the empty forest for a few minutes when Frisk spoke.

"I just realized something. We never saw Papyrus's gate, did we? We also didn't pass your sentry station. I guess that's just another-" Frisk stopped talking abruptly when the bushes off the side of the path started rustling and ann icecap silently crawled out and regarded the trio coldly, almost expectantly as its hat glittered in the low light.

"Well?" it demanded.

"Uh, nice hat?" Frisk said uncertainly.

"Thanks," the icecap said with a smug grin.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Uh, buddy," Sans said, "not to be rude, but why are you still in the underground? Shouldn't you have moved out by now?"

"Hmph!" the snowcap exclaimed, "You dumdum! We can't leave the underground with the barrier still in place! I guess it's not your fault, though. It's not the first time that someone's been so distracted by my amazing hat that they've forgotten something that even a _total idiot_ would know."

With a malicious chuckle, the snowcap continued on its way and disappeared on the other side of the road.

"Boy, snowcaps are annoying," Sans grumbled. "But more importantly, it seems the barrier is still in place down here, which means if our Gaster is around, he should be much easier to find. I guess we should head to the lab instead of the caste."

"I am excited to meet this Gaster," Asgore said, smiling. "I have a feeling we can be great friends."

"Yeah," Sans said, "You and Gaster were pretty tight before the incident. He'll probably remember you, Asgore. I don't see why being moved to a different dimension would fiddle with his memories. Then again, he shifted dimensions due to a malfunction with the core, whereas we intentionally came over here." Sans narrowed his eyes as he considered the problem.

"Um, Sans?" Frisk said, yanking him out of his thoughts. He raised an eye ridge in inquiry.

"That snowcap didn't attack me. If the barrier's still up, shouldn't monsters still be attacking humans on sight? Why did that one leave me alone?"

"Yeah, you're right kiddo. That is odd. First the ruins, then the sentry stations, now this. I guess this universe is more different than we expected," Sans paused for a moment, thinking. "Ok, I'm amending the plan. Before we go to the lab, we head to Snowdin and ask around. I want to ask around, see what we can learn about this universe. Plus," he added with a grin, "I might get an opportunity to prank myself. That doesn't happen everyday. Asgore, Frisk, I'd prefer it if you two didn't come with me. Asgore's a well-known figure that would draw more attention than we want, and Frisk, I don't want to risk you getting attacked, even though that Snowcap left you alone."

The two companions nodded, and with a ping, Sans vanished.

Sans reappeared on the outskirts of Snowdin square, only to be greeted by a good number of monsters hustling about. He shouldn't have been too surprised after talking to the snowcap, but he was anyway.

 _Huh,_ Sans thought, _I guess that Snowcap wasn't lying. Everyone's still trapped down here._

With a shrug, he stepped into the crowd and started to make his way to Grillby's. When you're a bartender, you find things out. You know things. Monsters that'd had a bit too much ketchup tended to guard their secrets much more loosely, plus Grillby's quiet nature made him easy to talk to. Consequently, Grillby had been both Sans's confidant and informant, depending on the situation. If anyone could fill Sans in on what was up in this universe, it was Grillby.

Deciding to hoof it rather than take a shortcut for nostalgic purposes, Sans once more walked the streets of Snowdin, greeting monsters with his goofy grin as he went. Snowdin was mostly inhabited by rabbit-types, though he did see a few familiar faces. He managed to get a glimpse of Doggo, who was harshly interrogating a wind chime that had been moving a few moments before. Sans could only chuckle. Doggo had always been a bit high strung. Sweeping his eyes across the square, Sans noticed they had that tree up again. He mused about how odd it was that humans did the same thing on the surface. After passing who knows how many familiar buildings, Sans finally came across the one he was looking for. Peering into the window to make sure a certain short, handsome skeleton wasn't in attendance, Sans was relieve to see that the only patron was a lesser dog. Judging by how short its neck was, it wasn't very excited or alert.

Whistling a jaunty tune, Sans pushed through the front door and took his seat at the bar. As the bell on the door jingled, Grillby appeared from behind the bar, as spiffy and professional looking as ever. He stared silently at Sans, clearly wanting to know what Sans' order would be.

"Hey, Grillby. I'll take a bottle of ketchup, just put it on my tab. I'm sure I'll be surprised about that later. Heh. Anyway, I've just got a few questions for ya."

Grillby's stare indicated Sans should ask away as he slid a red bottle across the counter to him. He pulled a glass out from under the counter and started cleaning it as Sans took a long draught.

"Ahh, that's good." Sans said with a satisfied grunt. "So me'n a few pals were just wondering why monsters aren't fighting humans anymore. Did Asgore rescind his declaration of war against humanity or something? Sorry if this seems like a dumb question. You know how my space-time shenanigans can mess with my head."

Grillby stopped polishing the glass and set it down with a click.

"War?" Grillby asked, his voice crackling and soft. "King Asgore never declared war. He's been dead for a very long time. Humans are our friends." He stared at Sans for a moment, pondering. Suddenly, his voice grew sharp and his flames became a little bit wilder. "You didn't attack a human did you? That would be treason against the crown."

Sans blinked, struggling to process the massive revelation Grillby had just thrown at him.

"Aw, c'mon Grillby," Sans said, "You know I'd never do that without a good reason."

"No, I don't know that, stranger," Grillby said, flames once more under control.

Sans's pupils disappeared and Grillby flinched.

"... stranger? What do you mean by that, Grillby?"

"Exactly what I said," Grillby said, once again regaining his composure with frightening ease. "Stranger. Enigma. Unknown. Whichever you prefer. I've never met you before in my life, and here you come in acting all chummy, asking really weird questions. And you don't have a tab, by the way. That's 4 G for the ketchup."

"Uhh." Sans turned his pockets out. Nothing.

"Well then," Grillby sighed, "I don't like getting rough with customers, but you were already acting suspicious and now you won't pay for what you ordered. I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you over to the royal guard. You're coming with me." Grillby's arms extended into massive tongues of fire and prepared to wrap around Sans, who snorted in morbid amusement.

"Hmph, good luck making me, Grillby. I've got 1hp. You can't even touch me without getting dust on your hands," said Sans, his pupils once more disappearing. "You can't make me go anywhere."

Grillby regarded him as coldly a flame elemental could. Without warning, sheets of fire erupted beneath all of the bar's door and windows. The lesser dog, who had been dozing, jolted awake at the noise, his neck extending rapidly and crashing into the ceiling. He whined at Grillby.

"What now, stranger?" Grillby asked. "If what you say is true, I may not be able to make you go anywhere, but I _can_ make sure you go nowhere." He looked up from Sans to the lesser dog, who was rubbing the newly formed lump on its head. "Lesser dog, go get Integrity. We need someone who can handle a monster without hurting them."

The dog nodded in understanding and barreled out the door, taking a few damage from the wall of fire as it went.

"Well," Grillby said. "You might as well get comfortable. Integrity tends to take his time when going from place to place."

Sans looked around the restaurant, examining the flames that licked the wood. Ignoring Grillby, Sans said, "Looks like you fireproofed the place, huh? Smart. Lets you get rough without burning the place down… but," he added with a wink, "that's still not good enough," and without warning, Sans disappeared.

He reappeared just outside Grillby's. The lesser dog could still be seen fleeing, and the surprised monsters it had shoved aside were even more shocked to see Sans materialize. Too distracted to manage a long-range teleport, Sans started shutter-stepping; teleporting a short distance with each step, enabling him to move at a tremendous speed. His pupils had contracted to tiny, white dots.

"This is bad."

He tore through Snowdin, making a beeline for a very specific destination. Finally, he stopped, breathing heavily as he stared at the empty lot where his and Papyrus's house should have been.

"I don't think I exist," he muttered before warping away once more.

Sans had gotten sloppy. Normally, in periods of high duress, he had been trained to slow down, take an objective look at his situation and take appropriate measures, but it had been a long time since he'd needed to act on that training. So, instead of doing what he knew he should have done, Sans acted on impulse. He started questioning the people of Snowdin.

"Have we met before?"

"Do you know me?"

"Have you ever seen me before, or maybe a taller skeleton?"

No. No. No. With each question, Sans was forced to accept what he already knew. In this world, there were no skeleton brothers. It's not that they had been killed, they had simply never existed. Asgore and Frisk needed to know about that. The implications were… significant.

Sans stopped in the middle of the square and clutched his chest, gasping. Shutter-stepping worked well, but it was exhausting, too. Sans forced himself to calm down. Often times, when he started to panic, he imagined his mind working as an engine. Working it too hard could make it stall, but all he had to do to get it working again was slow down and let it catch up. ' _Breathe,'_ he thought. ' _In. Out. The pistons are moving. Gears are turning. Observe, assess, act.'_ Finally, with a great heave of his chest, Sans started thinking at top speed once again.

"Uh, you okay, buddy? I guess you've gotta be, if Lesser Dog was right and you've only got 1 hp," said a voice from behind Sans. "Makes your existence sorta binary, you know? Alive, dead, no in between. With that in mind, I suggest you turn around and come with me. We're kinda in a public place and I don't wanna make a mess. "

Sans shoved his hands in his hoodie, threw on his best lazy grin and turned around with a chuckle, only to see a human. He refused to let himself get rattled and showed no external reaction, but his mind was racing as he took everything in. The human was short, a little chubby, with a dark gaze framed by frizzy, brown hair. Despite the grim face, the guy was really tense, like he was nervous. Really dangerous fighters like Undyne and Asgore, the people Sans knew to be cautious around, would be relaxed in a fight, confident in their own abilities, not stiff and grim. Overall, this guy looked like he was trying to come off as more dangerous than he actually was.

"Hey, buddy," Sans said. "D'you have a bone to pick with me? You might have the wrong guy."

But the human was already shaking his head. "I don't think so. I was told to capture a skeleton, and Dr. Gaster's the only other skeleton in the Underground." Oblivious to the whirlwind of thoughts that had exploded in Sans' head, the human droned on, "So yeah, according to Grillby, you're probably not just gonna come with me, so I've gotta force you."

The human raised an arm, and in what may have been the most surprising thing Sans had ever seen, turned Sans' soul blue and picked him up off the ground.

"If I can't hit ya," the human grunted, "I'll carry ya."

Sans remained stunned, frozen with a lazy grin on his face, for almost a full minute as the human carried him away before deciding on the best course of action based on the new information. Gaster was alive, there were humans in the undergrounds, and at least one of them could use magic. But Sans could use magic, too.

"Heh, neat trick, buddy," Sans chuckled. "But you haven't been practicing very much, have you?" Sans let his pupils contract for added effect.

The human stiffened even further.

"You seem tense. Don't tell me this lazy sack of bones has you rattled."

Abruptly, Sans stopped moving forward through the air.

The human frowned in concentration. "What did you do? Why can't I move you forward?"

"Heh, you think you're the only one who can use gravity magic? Think again."

Sans, hands in his pockets in his trademark pose, shot to the ground while the human's soul appeared, turned blue and lifted him in the air.

"You can use gravity magic, too, so hanging your shirt on a tree branch won't work, but I think I might know what will. Have a nice flight."

The human's face contorted in fear and anger as he figured out what Sans was up to, and started to say something only to be cut off as Sans savagely yanked his arm, throwing the human far, far away.

"That should keep him busy for a bit," Sans muttered. "Now let's go see how the others are doing."

With a ping and a whoosh, Sans vanished once again.


	8. Chapter 8

The world is a big place, so there've got to be at least a few escaped murderers, right? And of those escaped murderers, a couple of them had to have holed up in a small town, yeah? And out of those few people, there had to be at least one with a little determination, yes? At least one? Sum all of that up, and you get someone with a high level of violence, in a place isolated enough for a few people to go missing without raising a ruckus, with enough determination to support a disembodied soul yet not quite enough to reject one. In short, such a person would be the perfect host for a demon, hypothetically speaking. And, of course, being an incorporeal entity with nothing else to do, Chara had managed to find this person.

His name was Jason, and he was currently lost in the bottom of a tankard in a mostly empty bar in a sleepy town in northern Montana. He blinked, staring at the bar as he tried and failed to concentrate as the room spun around him.

"Another," he grunted, tapping his tankard on the counter.

The bartender, who had been watching Jason with a concerned expression as he cleaned a mug, had been expecting this question and tried his best to answer without provoking a drunken fit.

"Jason, I've gotta cut you off. You've had too much as it is."

Jason grunted, not exactly surprised, and stood rapidly, accidentally knocking his chair to the ground. "Oops," he mumbled, "lemme get that." He reached for it, and promptly tripped.

The night could have ended with that, Jason righting the chair and stumbling into the cold, but of course, something else happened. Back in the corner of the bar, someone violently and briefly guffawed at Jason's misfortune, covering his mouth trying to conceal his amusement. Jason visibly stiffened as he stood, using the chair as a support.

"Somethin' funny, Gary?" His words were still slurred, but there was something different about Jason. He was more balanced, more alert than he had been mere seconds ago. Gary, of course, had been drinking too. Not quite as much as Jason, but more than enough to leave his lips dangerously loose.

"Yeah, Jason," he laughed. "You falling on your face going after a chair was pretty priceless."

The ensuing bar-fight wasn't much of a fight. Gary was alert enough to stand up and raise his fists in a half-hearted stance as Jason approached him, but not nearly alert enough to avoid Jason's thundering right. Just one punch, and Gary was sprawled on the ground, unconscious.

"I'll be going now, Jerry." Jason rasped. "Put any damages on my tab."

As Jason stumbled out into the cold, two red pinpricks of light shone from the darkness, unnoticed by the drunken man.

" **Oh, this is going to be fun."**

Asgore and Frisk sat, literally twiddling their thumbs, unsure what to do. Neither wanted to sit around, but Sans disappearing hadn't left them with many options.

"So," Asgore began, "I wonder what's different. From home, I mean."

Frisk drew breath to reply but was cut off as Sans materialized.

"No talky. Listen, now," he said breathlessly, "I've confirmed a few things I suspected and encountered a whole new set of unexpected variables. Ok. Now, do _**not**_ interrupt me. It's a short list, so just let me finish.

Item one: There is at least one other human in the underground. One that's on friendly terms with the underground as a whole.

Item two: This human can use magic.

Item three: They have a Gaster. One Gaster. So something happened to one of them, because there should be two.

Final item: Papyrus and I do not exist in this reality."

Asgore's eyes were nearly bugging out of his head, whereas Frisk's had narrowed to their trademark slits.

"You and Paps don't exist?" they asked. "Why?"

"I… I need to think about that," Sans muttered. "But more importantly, we need to hurry. We can't take our time walking around if there are magic using humans. I'm just going to warp us straight to the lab, and we'll find out which Gaster they have. Then we'll go from there."

Again, Sans grabbed both Asgore and Frisk, and the scene changed with a _pop_.

The snow-covered trees gave way to the cold, grey walls of the lab. Frisk's eyes were drawn toward the sound of shuffling paper, where they saw Alphys sitting at a desk, startled by the sudden noise and the appearance of the three intruders. Frisk didn't know why, but she seemed younger. Brighter scales, fewer wrinkles. She just looked healthier than the Alphys from Frisk's world. Asgore waved uncomfortably.

"Hello."

Without skipping a beat, Sans walked up to a wall and smacked the wall. On the other side of the room, Frisk saw a keypad come out from a hidden panel near the locked door that led to the true lab.

Alphys, who finally gathered herself, began to protest.

"I-I don't know who you are, but you c-can't-"

Her mouth clicked shut when Sans teleported across the room to the panel and started punching in numbers.

"Uh, hi Alphys," Sans said as he kept punching in numbers. "You don't know me, but, uh, I work with Gaster. He's, uh, he's studying my ability to teleport. So don't worry about me. Go back to… whatever it is you're doing."

Frisk's eyebrows slowly rose as Sans continued punching in numbers. The code must have been at least twenty digits long. Finally, after another solid ten seconds of punching numbers, the door finally opened with a hiss.

"C'mon Frisk, Asgore. Let's go," Sans said as he stepped into the elevator, his companions following suit.

At that, Alphys slammed her hands on her desk as she struggled to stand up, her legs tangling themselves.

"Did you say-" But she was cut off once again when the elevator door closed.

Asgore's massive frame occupied most of the space, leaving Sans and Frisk pressed against the walls. While most of the ride was uncomfortable, Frisk could appreciate being a bit cramped when the elevator began its descent with a sudden lurch. Being packed in held them in place as the elevator accelerated.

"That was quite the code, Sans." Asgore said after a brief silence. "I don't remember it being that long when I would visit our Alphys in the True Lab."

"That's because we're not going to the True Lab, Fluffybuns," Sans said. "We're going to Gaster's lab. And, whether he's our Gaster or not, he'll almost certainly be there. He… he can be a bit obsessive."

The digital screen above the door had an array of strange symbols that Frisk didn't recognize, and they were rapidly changing. When they nudged Sans, he followed their gaze and nodded.

"Oh, yeah, that. Gaster has this way of speaking in hands. Signing, really. That's the written form, and it's telling us what floor we're on." The group went quiet again, the mechanical whirring of the elevator the only sound. They felt like they were being pulled through the floor as the elevator brakes finally engaged, signalling the end of their descent.

"Just let me do the talking, at least at the beginning," Sans said. "You can make nice later. Oh, and you might want to take a step back."

Without another word, Sans raised a solid wall of bones, completely covering the door.

"Sans…" Asgore began in a curious tone, but he went silent when he heard the hiss of the elevator door opening, only to be instantly followed by the sound of a muffled explosion. The wall rattled, and a few shards of bone chipped off, but it held.

"Gimme a minute," Sans said. "Dr. G doesn't like unexpected visitors."

Sans teleported out of the elevator. Not directly on the other side, of course. That would have been stupid, and Sans knew far better than that. Rather, he teleported to where his space in the lab had been back in his own reality. When the scene changed, Sans took in the scene in an instant. Where his own trash tornado of a space used to be, he took in an entire wall of glassware, meticulously ordered and cleaned in Gaster's way. There wasn't much else to look at. This was only the front room, after all. Of course, the real item of interest was certainly not Sans's old office space. It was the tall, wiry skeleton on the other side of the room, staring at the elevator. Yup. Definitely Gaster. He was the same. Tall and dark, except where the stark white of his hands and head contrasted his black coat. His face was the same, with two long cracks splitting his forehead and cheek, respectively. He looked quite serious, his brow creased, as he aimed his projectiles (tesseracts, because only Gaster would fire projectiles that needlessly complex) as the wall of bones he had been greeted with when the door opened.

Sans processed all of this information and already had formed a basic plan of action in the few milliseconds it took Gaster's head to whip around toward Sans. Gaster's projectiles rotated with him. Gaster's face remained neutral, but all of his projectiles twitched. Sans grinned.

 _So he still has that tell,_ Sans thought. _I startled him. Takes a lot to do that._

Before Gaster could attack, Sans signed at him.

" **Hello, doctor Gaster."**

Gaster's fac remained blank, but his tesseracts twitched again. He stared at Sans for a few seconds, before hesitantly signing back.

" **Hello. How do you know my name? And more importantly, how did you get down here?"**

Sans sighed audibly. This was not his Gaster.

" **Multiverse theory. I'm from a different underground. I knew a different version of you. Our Gaster went missing. We need him. A failed experiment sent him here… but I guess… I guess he's gone."**

Gaster's eyes narrowed. Another tell. Sans must have said something important. Gaster's response further supported Sans' idea.

" **Can you prove it?"**

" **Well, probably not, at least not quickly,"** Sans signed. " **I don't exist in this universe. However, I have two friends behind that wall of bones, and at least one of them should be familiar to you. I'm going to lower it, but not before you put your tesseracts away."**

Surprisingly, Gaster complied. With a snap of Sans' fingers, the bone wall receded back into the floor. Frisk and Asgore carefully stepped out of the elevator, the latter stretching as he emerged from the confined -at least to him- space.

And with that, Sans witnessed the most visceral reaction from Gaster that he'd ever seen. The taller skeletons eyes went wide, his pupils contracting, and he began to shiver. Not the sort of shiver something does when it's cold, but when it's so overwhelmed by what it's experiencing that its muscles simply refuse to cooperate. Gaster visibly sagged and supported himself on the nearest table as his legs tried to buckle. So dazed, the good doctor was, that he signed at the two newcomers.

" **Asgore."**

"Uh, doc," Sans said, "They don't speak in hands."

Still trembling, Gaster adjusted his glasses and took a shaky step toward the king. "Asgore, is that you?"

Asgore, who to his credit had remained incredibly composed despite being in the middle of the most intense episode of deja vu he had ever experienced, could only manage to say one word.

"Yes?"

"Gaster," Sans said. "This is the proof that we're from a different dimension. This is our Asgore. We can just take a short trip to the palace and grab _your_ Asgore, and since there will be two of them, you can pretty easily surmise that what I'm saying is true."

Gaster blinked rapidly, then his lips started to move silently as he stared at Asgore. After a few moments, Gaster's eyes widened briefly, and he shook his head slightly as if he'd finally added two and two and did not like the answer he got. Gaster heaved a sigh and his shoulders practically sank to the floor.

His entire being sagged as he sighed, "No, that won't be necessary…" he vaguely gestured at Sans, wanting a name.

"Sans," said the skeleton in question.

"Sans," Gaster continued, "Our Asgore has been dead for a very, very long time. But," Gaster said, straightening out, "Your Gaster is still around, mostly. Are you familiar with the term 'amalgamation?'"

"Oh you are kidding me," Sans groaned. "That happened over here, too?"

Gaster nodded. "I am simultaneously saddened that this has happened twice and relieved that I do not have to explain the concept to you. Your Gaster is a special case. He is still himself, but he is not physically whole."

"Is he down here?" Asgore interjected.

Gaster wouldn't meet Asgore's eyes as he hesitantly answered. "Yes. But nobody else knows about him. I've had no reason to tell, plus from a bureaucratic standpoint it simply would have been… messy. He just appeared one day, here in the lab. That failed experiment you mentioned must have really gone wrong, because he was literally just a shadow on the wall. I, of course, was fascinated by this sourceless shadow, and went to get some equipment. By the time I got back he had sucked up an entire canister of determination, and before my very eyes the shadow took on a third dimension. Imagine my surprise when the formless mass took on an appearance similar to my own, and then produced an imitation of _my face._ "

Sans chuckled darkly. "I've seen worse. Backstory aside, could you take us to him? We need him for something back home."

Without warning, a voice reverberated through the room.

" _That will not be necessary, Sans Serif."_

A black sludge began to seep from the panels in the ceiling, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid mound.

" _It has been a long time, Sans,"_ the voice continued. " _And despite how excited I am to see you again, I just might be more curious about your little friend here."_ Something resembling an arm emerged from the growing mass to gesture at Frisk. " _Because it seems they have a significant amount of determination, but not the quantity a typical red soul would possess. And I find that_ _ **fascinating.**_ " With an unpleasant sucking sound, a face finally appeared. It was the most solid part of the amalgam, almost looking like a mask. It was a bit lopsided compared to the face of the solid Gaster next to him, but it still had the basic features. White, rounded, with two huge cracks. As Sans watched, the mass apparated two hands, each with a hole through the palms and reached to Frisk.

Frisk stepped back abruptly, not wanting to be touched by the goopy, undulating thing and stalled with a greeting.

"Hi there, Gaster. I'm Frisk."

Gaster paused. " _Hello, Frisk. I take it Sans has told you about me, so I see no need for formal introductions. May I see your soul?"_

Frisk contemplated the question for a moment, nearly chuckling when it occurred to them how utterly ridiculous the question would have been before they'd fallen down here. Without a verbal response, they will their soul into the physical plane, and both they and Sans tensed when they saw it.

Back when Frisk had purged Chara, it had been a vibrant, pulsing red. Now, however, its color was weak and dull, just a few shades redder than pink.

"What?" both Sans and Frisk said in unison.

Gaster extended his hands to the soul, preparing to examine it.

"Wait," Sans commanded. "That isn't normal. Last time we checked on it, and that was only yesterday, it was a really bright red. It's color has changed drastically since then."

Both Gasters seemed curious at this point, and launched a salvo of questions.

"Have you been taking reading regularly, Sans?"

"Exactly how bright was it?"

"Has Frisk been able to view their MENU?"

"Has anything like this ever happened before?"

Sans made a chopping motion with his hand. "Both of you, stop. This is weird, but we can deal with it later. Gaster from home, Double G, which what I'm calling you while we're in this dimension, by the way, we need you to come back with us. There's a situation involving a very determined demon that calls for your expertise to rectify."

Both Gasters, again, looked perplexed.

"A demon?" Double G asked. "I assume you're not referring to the entity that appears in human superstition, so what are you talking about?"

Sans groaned. "Great. You guys don't know what demons are. Here's a crash course: A human soul is too determined to move on, so it persists outside a body and becomes both corrupted and extremely powerful. What, did Chara never come back to bite you in the ass after they died?"

Once again, both Gasters shared a look.

"Chara," said the solid Gaster, "Is still very much alive."

 **A/N: Well hi! It's been a long time since I've updated this and I have no excuse. I'm not promising any sort of update schedule, but I'm pretty sure I can get the next chapter out in less than six months. ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

Asgore flinched.

Frisk clutched their chest.

And Sans? Sans got angry. Part of Sans, the cold, clinical part of him that that had been trained to analyze situations whispered "you know this is a different Chara. There's no reason to be angry yet." The rest of Sans, however, threw logic out the window. From his frozen, stiff stance, hands shoved in his pockets, to his locked up, humorless smile, to the dark pits of his pupil-less eyes, rage was written in every line of Sans's body.

He managed to grind out one, single, accusing word through his wide grin.

"WHAT."

The amalgamated Gaster recognized this behavior, knew how close Sans was to snapping. And, knowing exactly what Sans was capable of, he shuffled backward a bit.

"Sans. Calm down. Chara is royalty. Explain the situation to us."

Sans didn't respond. He remained frozen as the analytical side of him tried to get his emotions under control.

"Chara," Frisk said, stepping forward to speak for Sans, "is the reason we need your help, Gaster. You know the demon thing, that Sans mentioned? Well, that's what Chara turned into. They used determination to make the entire underground into their own personal game and killed everyone, over and over. Now they're loose on the surface and we need your help to stop them. They-"

"How," Sans snapped.

A pause.

"Pardon?" The goopy Gaster inquired.

"How is Chara still alive? They first fell down here centuries ago. Humans don't live that long. So how are they still kicking?"

"Ah," the amalgam Gaster answered, "The answer to that is, in a word, determination. Red souls' main power is time manipulation, so it seems logical that Chara has been able to use their ample supply to extend their lifespan. That's only a hypothesis, though. Chara has refused to allow this dimension's Gaster to examine their soul, and of course, I've never met them."

Sans hummed, stroking his chin thoughtfully as his brain connected dots at a frightening pace.

"When," he asked slowly, "did this world's Asgore die? Wait, no, let me guess; It within a few years of Chara first falling down."

The solid Gaster seemed concerned as he answered. "Yes. Why... No, how did you know that?"

A wordless snarl tore itself from Sans's throat as he punched a wall.

"I knew it!." He took a moment to compose himself. "That brat did the same thing iback home. They and Asriel made Asgore a butterscotch pie, except they "accidentally" used buttercups instead of butterscotch, and it just so happens that buttercups are poisonous. 'Course, I'm pretty sure Chara knew that. They were practicing. They just wanted to see if the poison worked. Looks like it worked a little too well over here, and it killed your Asgore."

Both Gasters remained in a stunned silence before the solid one responded.

"Sans, do you expect us to believe that Chara intentionally poisoned their own father just to test the effectiveness of a poison?"

Sans's face remained frozen in his unfeeling grin, but a sneer crept into his voice as he answered coldly.

"What you don't understand here, Gaster, is that that little brat is more of a monster than we are. They don't care about anyone besides themself. Looks like your Chara was too much of a coward to carry out their plan, or maybe just bailed when they accidentally killed Asgore, but let me give you the rundown of what would have happened if Asgore had gotten better. I told you that it was a test, right, of the effectiveness of buttercups as a poison? Well, Chara wanted to use them to poison themself, so they would die and Asriel would absorb their soul, becoming a god. Both of them had this whole plan worked out, Gaster. After attaining godhood, Asriel/Chara would pass through the barrier and kill a bunch of humans. Why? Because all Chara knows how to do is hate and kill. Probably convinced Asriel it was to get some souls to break the barrier, or something. Thankfully the little brat's plan was ruined when Asriel resisted their influence. Got both of them killed in the end, leaving their soul to rot."

"Sans, are you seriou—" the amalgam began, but Sans cut him off with the tone of someone who had just gotten a joke and realized it had been on them.

"No, no wait. It gets better. So after that little shit tore the royal family apart and threw the rest of the underground into chaos, they waited, getting more broken and more powerful all the while. Then, a long time later, Frisky here comes along. Long story short, Chara ends up possessing Frisk. Killed the entire underground, Asriel, Toriel and Asgore included. Over and over again. Dozens, hundreds of times." Sans's voice faltered and dropped to a harsh whisper. "Gaster, because of how… how you… taught me, I never forgot. At least everyone else had the mercy of forgetting each time Chara reset the timeline. But no, not me. Not Frisk. We remember. Killing, dying., time and time again with no power to stop it. Only reason we're here is because Chara let us come to the surface, and now they're looking for a stronger host. If they succeed, they will kill everything and everyone. But hey, enough about my feelings. It's not like they make a difference."

A frenzied energy had entered his voice with those last few words and he abruptly clammed up, his brain trying to find some problem, some puzzle to solve. His mind raced, analyzing everything the Gasters had said previously, looking for something, anything to distract him from the raw pain and hurt and fear and broken mess of emotions that were threatening to spill out. Finally, he found something that seemed off, and furiously picked it apart in his head.

Frisk, standing quietly by Asgore, saw Sans begin to shake and sweat, blatant panic in his eyes. From bitter experience, they knew the signs of flashbacks, of anxiety attacks, and that was exactly what they saw in Sans. They walked up to him, to the amalgam Gaster's horror, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Sans," they whispered. "Talking about it helps." Somehow, Sans managed to look clammy when he glanced down at Frisk. That shouldn't have even been possible for a skeleton, but Sans managed it anyway.

"Not me, kiddo. It's not important right now, anyway. What is important, is that I've figured out exactly why Chara won't let you examine their soul, Gaster." Sans said, shifting his attention back to the solid Gaster.

Frisk watched Sans's eyes carefully, watched him shove all that pain into a dark corner as he explained his conclusion to the Gasters.

"The reason is that if you were to do so, you would find that it's not just a human soul anymore. I'm willing to bet that they absorbed Asgore's soul after he died. That would also explain why they've lived so long. Determination can do a lot, but even it has limits. On the other hand, boss monsters live for a very long time, so absorbing one of their souls should make even the least determined human live much longer." His attention shifted to the amalgam. "Come on, Gaster. Of all people, you know that determination alone isn't enough to make Chara live this long. Solid Gaster, you should check up on that. The rest of you, come on. We're going home."

Sans was met with a stunned silence as his audience tried to process his sudden 180 in the flow of the conversation.

"Wait," Asgore rumbled hesitantly, "You want to go back home now? We just found out that Chara rules this underground. One tiny push could send them and the rest of the underground into chaos, and you want to just leave? Sans… we can't do that."

"IT'S NOT," Sans said, rounding on Asgore. "OUR. PROBLEM." His pupils had contracted to mere pinpricks. "Frisk doesn't have control of the timeline back home, let alone here, so if we die, we are finished and everyone back home is screwed. I'm not risking our universe just so we can see if this one needs fixing."

"Sans," Frisk said quietly, tugging his sleeve. "I get where you're coming from, but if their Chara is anything like ours, then we can't just sit by and do nothing. It's not our problem, no, but innocent monsters could get hurt, Sans."

"I agree," said Asgore. "The strong are obligated to help those in need, so let us go and confront this Chara. If we cannot handle this Chara, then what makes you think we can handle our own? We have nothing to lose, Sans."

Sans still seemed unconvinced.

"Sans," the amalgam Gaster said softly, "I have lived in this world for so long. Please do not let it crumble."

Sans stared at his friends with a pained expression. He trusted all of them, especially Frisk, but they were all asking him to do something that the analytical part of his mind screamed was a bad idea. "Why?" he thought, "Why won't they listen?" But he knew that look on Frisk's face, that squinty-eyed expression of determination. They were going to keep pestering Sans about this, and try it by themself if they had to. Mentally, Sans heaved a sigh of defeat, then steeled himself, putting his training as a tactician to use.

"Fine," he snapped. "We'll stop Chara." Of course, by 'stop,' Sans meant 'kill,' but he wasn't about to let anyone know that. Despite all that Chara had put Frisk through, they still might try for mercy. But Sans knew better. Something that had been drilled into his head since the day he started learning to fight was that if you attacked anything, it had to be with lethal intent. Anything less would get you killed. Sans held no mercy for any opponent, especially not that demon, Chara. "But," he continued, "while I think we've got plenty to go on here, but I want to make sure the ball is squarely in our court before we do anything. I'm sick of that brat having the upper hand. So Gaster, tell me, how many humans are in the underground, and what are they capable of? I ran into one, I think they call him Integrity or somethin', but he could use magic. That's not normal where we come from. Is this magic unique, or is there anything we have to look out for?"

The solid Gaster adjusted his glasses, shifting gears to professor-mode.

"Besides Chara, there are two humans in the Underground, referred to as Integrity and Patience, with blue and orange magic, respectively. Their magic is different from monster magic in that while monsters summon projectiles, such as my tesseracts," —Gaster briefly summoned one as an example— "human magic involves manipulating their environment or their opponents. Integrity has gravity-based blue magic, where he can move objects by altering their gravitational fields, whereas Bravery has orange aspect fire magic."

While Asgore and Frisk were engrossed in the explanation, Sans had locked eyes with the amalgam Gaster, an angry grin growing by the second. They abruptly cut off the staring contest when the solid Gaster finished his briefing.

"I don't know if Chara can use magic, but just because nobody has ever seen it does not mean that they can't."

"Well that's just great," Sans grumbled. "We have to jump into this without knowing whether Chara can even use magic. That's a pretty big variable, dontcha think?"

"Sans, I feel your version of Chara is far less reserved than ours." Said the solid Gaster. "They spend most of their time alone and they don't talk very much, to anyone, not even Toriel."

Only Sans noticed Asgore stiffen at the name.

"They are very secretive. There is no practical way I can think of that we can ascertain their magical abilities other than a direct confrontation."

Sans sighed in irritation. "You're right. Even if they can use magic, I doubt they would use it in anything besides direct combat if they're as cautious as you say. Becoming a demon made our Chara incredibly powerful, but since yours is still alive they shouldn't be quite so strong. Then again, they have absorbed a boss monster soul, assuming I'm right about that, which would certainly make them dangerous. Still, I'm not going into this without some sort of insurance. Gaster, you mentioned that when our Gaster appeared he sucked up some determination? Do you still have any?"

"Yes…" the solid Gaster answered, not sure exactly where Sans was going.

"Can you get some? We're going to need it," Sans said as he turned on his heel and disappeared into one of the lab's rooms. Gaster went through a different doorway. The sounds of clinking glass and shuffling paper emanated from both doorways. Gaster came back first, holding a mid-sized red canister with some sort of hazard label plastered to its exterior. Sans emerged soon after with an armful of medical supplies and unceremoniously dumped it on a table.

"What I'd like to do, if you're up for it, Frisk, is temporarily hijack this timeline from Chara. When Chara possessed you back then, they supplied your determination. That's why you lost control over the timeline when you forced them out, but I've got a canister of distilled determination here. What I want to do is hook you up to an IV and put some determination in ya. You're human, so you should handle it just fine, and it should jack up your determination levels to the point where you can fight Chara for control of the timeline, or even completely take it over. The second we came over here, we were placed into Chara's game. If we spook them to the point where they try to reset or LOAD a different save… well, I'm not sure exactly what would happen, so let's avoid it."

"If I may interject," the amalgam Gaster said, raising a finger, "I'm fairly sure I can guess what would happen. At best, what happened to me will happen to you. At worst, you'll be erased from existence. See, when the core sort of blew up in my face, I didn't just pop over here immediately. For a time, I was stuck in a place beyond time."

Frisk's squinting intensified.

"What?" They said flatly.

"It was a space between universes," Gaster continued. "I eventually came to refer to it as the Void. It was dark. That's not anywhere near descriptive enough, but words fail me. Dark, darker yet darker…" Gaster's pupils disappeared and he began to shiver. It wasn't the way Sans did it, the abrupt, threatening disappearance of those small lights, rather they slowly faded, the light in Gaster's eyes dying as he remembered… "Time did not seem to pass there. I floated for what felt like years, trying to find something, anything that I could sense. No sight, not sound, no touch, just emptiness. For a time I could not tell if I existed. But finally, I started to see scattered bits of movement, strings of numbers; code."

The plates that constituted Gaster's face started to slide apart, their owner so lost in memory that he couldn't even properly maintain his physical form.

"I tried to grasp the fleeting strings of code that were within my reach. My fingers past through it, but for a fleeting moment a bolt of understanding shot through me. It was a set of instructions of some kind. Gradually I could see more and more of this code, fleeting in the the dark. When I would touch it, I could feel what it was for. And this code, Sans, was for building worlds. Gravity, friction, momentum: it was all there. And it didn't stop at physics, oh no. I found the code for everything. For you, for Asgore, all the buildings and residents of Snowdin, all in letters and numbers. I saw all of us at the most basic fabric of reality." The light slowly began to return, his form regaining its structure. "The reason I am they way I am," Gaster demonstrated by raising a dripping arm, "Is not that the core explosion damaged me. The code controls everything, Sans. When I finally emerged from the void into this universe, the code saw that I did not belong. This world has one Gaster, not two. So I was reduced to a lesser state of being. Only by infusing myself with determination was I able to regain physical form, and a limited one at that."

"That's… thought provoking," Sans said, "but where does erasing us from existence come into play?"

"Tsk. Impatient. I was getting to that," Gaster chided. "Normally, what happened to me would have happened to you, but all of you can be here because there are no direct copies of yourselves in this universe. Their Asgore is dead. They do not have a Frisk. And Sans, you… you don't exist either. None of you is a duplicate of any code. But if Chara LOADS to a point after you came here, the code will notice that you three are out of place and try to erase you, reducing you to something like me. If Chara LOADS to a point before you arrived, you will cease to exist. Determination is powerful, but it cannot act across universes. It will not take you home, rather you will simply be erased and forgotten."

The room remained silent for a solid ten seconds before Sans, concerningly unshaken, said in a businesslike manner, "Well thanks for settling that, doc. We don't have a choice in the matter, then. Frisk, you need to take the reigns from Chara. Like I said, you'll be fine. So are you up for it?"

Frisk remained silent for a moment, contemplating the choice. They trusted Sans, believed that the distilled determination would do them no harm, yet they still hesitated. They knew there was no rational reason to refuse, but that primitive, fearful part of their brain screamed loudly enough to hold logic at bay. That extra determination would throw them right back into the game, the living hell that Chara had forced them to endure for years, where lives were just pieces on a board to be manipulated, used. They shuddered. "But this isn't just about me," they thought. "This world needs us." They slowly drew themself up, hardening both their gaze and their resolve.

"Let's do it."

It didn't take long for Sans to get Frisk ready to go. He put some distilled determination into an IV bag and stuck a needle in the crook of Frisk's elbow. The original plan was to follow standard procedure and suspend the bag from a pole, but Frisk refused to stay behind. Sans had wanted to leave them in the lab since they would be the only thing preventing Chara from playing with the timeline and, by extension, destroying all of them, but Frisk refused to stay behind, so Sans had to improvise. He ended up strapping the bag to Frisk's back, under their shirt, where Chara hopefully wouldn't notice it.

"With the size of the needle and the amount of determination in that bag," Sans said, "You should be jacked up enough to take over the timeline for an hour or two. It if isn't over by then… it won't matter, anyway." Sans looked over at the solid Gaster. "Are you sure there's no way to gather intel on Chara's abilities?"

Gaster sighed. "Yes, Sans. I have worked with them for decades trying to answer that question and have learned nothing. I cannot force them to reveal their secrets"

Sans sighed in irritation, then looked to Asgore. "Fine. With that in mind, we want to end it as soon as possible. We don't know enough. We don't know what Chara is capable of, we don't know if they will be alone. Asgore, you may need to help me, and that might mean fighting Chara. Can you do that?" Sans's tone was deadly serious, in spite of his ever-present grin.

Asgore's eyes wandered as he thought. Despite his massive power, he had never really liked fighting, and now his best warrior was asking him to fight his own child.

"No," he said, thinking aloud. "They're not Chara. Not anymore."

He slowly met Sans's gaze.

"I will fight with all my strength to put Chara to rest."

Sans nodded grimly.

"Good."

Then Sans did something nobody had ever seen him do before.

Hands still firmly in his pockets, Sans teleported everyone in the room without establishing physical contact, reality twisting and contorting for a split second before spitting them back out in the throne room.

There were three persons of interest. On one side of the throne stood the human Sans had encountered. On the other, was a lanky, pale human with short brown hair. Both had their attention focused on the person sitting in the throne.

A little bit older.

A little bit bigger.

But.

Unmistakably.

Chara.

 **A/N: Heyo! Got another one out, and this time a bit quicker, eh? Thanks so much for reading, and as always, R &R!**


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